


Shit Let's Be Ghosts (Reflect and Regret)

by LittleUggie



Series: In the Bubbles [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bullying, Dream Bubbles, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Minor Violence, Not as sad as it seems
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-20 22:27:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6027670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleUggie/pseuds/LittleUggie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being killed by Jack, Mom Lalonde and Bro Strider end up in the same dream bubble. They get to know each other while reflecting on their lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first fanfic, but it has been brewing in my mind for a while. Hopefully this will be an entire series, we'll see how it goes. If you have any suggestions or critiques, please leave them in the comments. I'm always open to constructive feedback. Hope you guys, gals, and otherwise designated living beings enjoy!

      _You had really thought you could beat him this time, especially with Lil Cal and Davesprite at your back. What you didn’t expect was that random-ass power up. You had seen a lot of weird shit in your life, most of it within the previous few hours, but seeing the jester-carapace-hentai creature you were fighting flash green and turn into a nightmare fursona was at the top of the list. It didn’t excuse your slip up, though. You had known better than to let yourself get distracted even by something as wild as that transformation and you had paid the price. Cal must be so disappointed in you. Done in by your own sword even, bad irony that’s what that is. Strangely, you feel the impact of your back to the stone more than any pain from the sword. All you can see are orange feathers raining like fire around you as your vision begins to fade. Nothing so clichéd as your life passing before your eyes happens, though you do have the not-at-all hysterical and completely cool thought that the feathers are the same color as your eyes. Your last thought as you slip into blackness is that you wish could have done more to prepare Dave. God, you hope he survives._

***

_You saw the glint of light off of glass which was your only warning before he attacked. One minute you were having a perfectly nice lunch with a polite and handsome man and the next you were staring past triangular shades into the insane slitted eyes of a deformed Dersian as he rammed a sword through you. Just your luck, the one time you actually get to go on a date you end up brutally murdered. The tension created by each of your worries for your respective children had been bad enough. At least you have had enough to drink that the pain is numbed. You wish you could have seen Rose again, held her like when she was little girl. Leaving on that boat had been the hardest thing you had ever done, but you knew you had to do it. This wasn’t your game, and you had done all you could to help. Your Rosie is such a smart girl, she will find a way to beat this godforsaken game. You are just sorry you won’t be there to see it._


	2. ==> Wake Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WTF? I'm not dead?

     Waking up is a surprise, since the last time he had been aware he could have sworn he was dying. Alright, first order of business is to take stock of self and surroundings. He sits up, flexing his hands that are still in fingerless gloves. He is…at the apartment? Sitting on his futon, cap and shades firmly on his head, spats on his feet, everything looks the same but something is definitely off. Where’s Cal? He turns, ah, there he is sitting on top of the turntables. Jumping over the back of the futon, he snatches up the puppet, setting it on his shoulder and wrapping the limp arms around his neck. The sense of unease still lingers. Standing very still, only his eyes moving behind his shades as they flick around the room, he listens for… anything. But there is nothing. It is completely silent. That’s what’s wrong. It's never silent in the city. Ignoring the heaviness growing in the pit of his stomach, he flash-steps out the door and up the stairs to the roof.

***

     She is rudely awaken from a deep sleep by the floor. More specifically, she is woken by hitting the floor. Damn, did she pass out on the couch again? It wouldn’t be the first time, but she tries not to blackout in places Rose is likely to find her. Not after the lipstick incident of 2003. She tries to pull herself up onto the couch, but instead just manages to topple the Elderitch Princess on top of herself. So it’s going to be that kind of day, huh.  Sighing, she pushes the over-sized plush doll off and unsteadily climbs to her feet. Jesus Christ, she needs a drink.  Heels click loudly on the floor as she starts toward the stairs, but she stops abruptly. That wasn’t right. She stamps her foot, making a clack that echos through the silent house. No sound of rushing water beneath her feet. The soothing, ever present music of the falls the house was built over is missing. Water had been streaming even after the house had entered the Medium. Her breath catches. The Medium. The Game. Everything comes hurtling back up until the attack. How is she here then? Did the kids win? She isn’t sure what exactly winning entailed, but she didn’t think it involved bringing the dead back. Though she supposes it is possible, she had only gotten a few glimpses of the complex coding that made up the structure of the game and it had been overwhelming even with her mad haxxor skillz. Well, she should probably head for high ground to see what is up with the lack of waterfall, after all that is a major source of power for the house and laboratory. Plus, going upstairs means she can swing by her bar for a quick pick-me-up.

***

     Well, this is different. Balancing on the edge of the roof, he surveys the surrounding landscape, if that’s what it can be called. The apartment building is standing bereft of its usual neighbors on a bed of concrete that spans about the distance of a block in all directions before melding into grass and trees. The only other structure in sight looks to be a laboratory of some sort with a large telescope sticking out of an attached observatory.  It isn’t too far away, a mile at most, but the densest portion of the woods surrounds it. Further past that, the forest seems to thin out a bit, but he can’t tell what lays beyond it. While he had never spent much time outside of urban environments, he can tell that these are not normal woods, aside from the fact that there is a random-ass skyscraper stuck in the middle of them. No noise or movement is evident. Standing 30 stories up, not the slightest hint of wind rustles the tops of the trees below him. Even during the hottest part of the summer, one can usually catch at least a slight airflow this high up, but the air here is dead. He also can’t tell where the light is coming from. Even though it is as bright as day, there is no sun. Instead, the entire expanse of sky seems to emit a soft white glow from behind swirling…clouds? He’d have called them that except they seem shinier and more fluid with an occasional rainbow sheen shining through them. In fact, it kind of looks as if the sky is the inside curvature of some sort of gigantic soap bubble.

     He most certainly does not flip his shit at this locational bullshitery. He is too fucking cool for that. Besides, he has already had to deal with being randomly transported to some weird-ass places during…oh, fuck. Were they still in-game? Was this some sort of weird hidden level only accessible through death by fucked up dog-monster? There doesn’t appear to be any imps or other creatures around. In fact, he seems to be the sole occupant of whereinthefuckistan. Well, except for Cal. He readjusts the puppet on his shoulders, reassuring himself he will never be completely alone as long as Cal is with him. He shit remains unflipped. Just sitting there on the skillet getting all burned on one side. Under extreme duress, he might admit to a slight sense of perturbation at his current situation, if only due to the enigmatic nature of it. He doesn’t like not knowing what the fuck is going on. It limits his planning options and he makes it a point to always have a few plans formulated. Irons in the fire, if you will.

     Suddenly, he catches a glimpse of movement from the laboratory-looking place. It seems someone is moving around over there. Staring intently, the only thing he can make out from this distance is a flash of pink and the glint of something either glass or metal. Whoever, whatever is over there, they just became integral to plan Figuring Shit Out. Decaptchalogueing the rocketboard, he jumps off the edge of the roof and takes off like, well, a rocket.

***

     After fixing herself a quick martini, she takes her highball glass and goes to peer through the bank of windows that border the second story of the house. There’s your problem, no water. Which she had already guessed. The forest at least looked pretty much the same as it always did. Though there wasn’t a lot she could tell about it from this distance. She heads to the other side of the house to see if she can spot the Skaianet Lab. Something else is conspicuously present in its place. Huh. That’s not something you see every day, at least not rising out of the middle of the woods. The looming building gave off a very post-apocalyptic vibe. _Which_ , she thought with a snort into her drink, _it technically is_. Giving the building a closer look, there is something out of place on the already bizarre structure. Setting her glass down on the windowsill, she hurries to her bar/room. She knows there's one stashed around here somewhere. Aha! She pulls out a collapsible telescope from behind a few bottles of spirits, and goes back to the window. She points it at the top of the skyscraper just in time to see something coming toward her, fast. Decaptchaloguing her rifle, she pushes open the window and targets the incomer.


	3. 'Sup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Together at last.

     Finger on the trigger, she scrutinizes her target. In the time it takes for her eyes to focus and brain to comprehend what she was seeing, he’s nearly upon her. She leaps out of the way, falling to the ground as he barrels through the window.

     “What the actual fuck, Strider?” She straightens her dress, sending the rifle back into her strife specibus. Reclaiming her drink, she fixes him with a glare that she hopes is intimidating enough to convey her annoyance at his abrupt entrance.

     He captchalogues the board out from under himself, landing in a silent crouch before straightening. Mockingly, he tips the brim of his cap to her.

     “Dr. Lalonde, heard this is where the party’s at,” he drawls, body language screaming “studied nonchalance” but his face is, as usual, inscrutable.

     “Oh yeah, what gave it away? Then throngs of people trashing my house? Perhaps, the thumping bass shaking the floor. No, I got it. It was the bounce house wasn’t it? Damn, I was trying to stay low key, but you just can’t have a bitchin’ party without a bounce house. Amirite?” Oh, look at that, she was out of drink. Time for a refill, she has a feeling she is going to need it. She sashays past into her room/bar, leaving him to quietly prowl after her.

     Pulling out the vermouth, gin, and shaker, she mixes the cocktail with the expertise of a seasoned bartender. Strider pulls out a barstool to perch on and observes in vaguely disapproving silence. Ignoring him until the fresh drink is poured, she takes a sip before acknowledging him with a head tilt.

     “Can I get you a drink? I have a bit of everything,” she gestures to the numerous shelves of bottles. He quirks an eyebrow back, visible over the top of his dumb shades. It’s the closest thing to an actual facial expression she has seen him make.

     “Orange soda?”

     “You a teetotaler?”

     “I don’t like to partake in mind altering substances.”

     “Whateves, more for me then.”

     She does, however, open the minifridge under the bar (oh, yay, the power is still working) and pull out a carton of orange juice. Grabbing a crystal tumbler, she pours him a glass, going so far as to garnish it with an actual orange slice.

     “How ‘bout your friend there?” She flicks a finger at Lil Cal.

     “Nah, he’s not a big drinker, either.” He pulls out the stool next to him and situates Cal on it. With elbows spread akimbo on the bar and wooden head on his hands, he looked like nothing more than the quintessential world weary drunk. If that drunk happened to be a manically grinning puppet with a gold chain and backwards ball cap.

     “Of anything but blood, probs. I can’t be the first one to point this out, but it’s kind of disturbing for a grown ass man to carry around a doll everywhere.”

     “He’s a puppet.” His voice is icy.

     “That’s somehow even creepier.”

     “No, puppets are awesome, dolls are lame. Now that we have that out of the way, are we going to talk about where we are, how the fuck we got here, and why we seem to be the only living beings in the vicinity?”

***

     Watching Lalonde knock back drinks like a frat pledge on rush week did not seem to be conducive to finding out any new information about their situation. The only thing he had managed to learn was that she had also ended up here through death-by-mutant-dog.

     “So you think this is some kind of afterlife?” he asked.

     “If it is, why did only we end up here? We weren’t anywhere near each other when we died.”

      “I don’t know.” He hated to say it, but they were spinning their wheels. Questions leading only to more questions. She downed the remains of her current drink and poured another. A thought occurred to him as she took a sip.

      “How many of those have you had?”

     “I dunno, what’re you my AA sponsor?”

      “You’ve mixed at least three shakers full since I got here, yet you aren’t showing any signs that it is affecting you.”

      She stopped with the glass halfway to her lips, before setting it back down. She frowned and walked around the bar. Walking a in a straight line, one foot place carefully in front of the other, she muttered the alphabet backward under her breath.

     “Huh, you’re right. I have a pretty high tolerance, but I feel stone cold sober.” She took a careful sip from her glass and let it roll around in her mouth. “Well, it tastes alcoholic, but something is seriously off. What’s your juice like?”

     He picked up his heretofore untouched tumbler and took a sip. The corner of his mouth may have possibly turned down a notch.

     “It tastes weird, like someone tried to make juice but didn’t get the recipe quite right. Which doesn’t make sense because the only thing in juice is oranges and water, how do you fuck that up?”

     “Maybe it’s gone bad? I don’t remember how long ago I bought it.”

     “How long…” He set the glass down with a clink. “Lalonde, how much time has passed since I got here?”

     “I’d say it’s been about…” She stops. “I—I don’t really remember. Maybe a couple of hours? But it doesn’t feel like it’s been that long, and at the same time I thought a lot more time passed while we talked than was needed for the conversation length.”

     He decaptchalogues his phone and travel laptop. There is only a blank space where the date and time should be, though strangely there is a great wifi signal. He tries to google the world clock, but only an error page shows up. Lalonde leaves the room, heels tapping rapidly. She comes back with a pocket watch with—is that a Deathly Hallows symbol on it?

     “Look at this.” She thrusts the watch at him. He pops open the case. The entire face of the clock is blurred, even the hands, as if it was a painting someone had smeared.

     “I’m guessing it didn’t look like this before?”

     “All the analog clocks in the house are like that. The digital ones are just blank.”

     “And we are back to square one: Where the hell are we, and what the fuck is going on?”

     “Christ, I wonder if a different one of these bottles will do something. Something to take the edge off would be super awesome right now.” She rubs her eyes with one hand. He starts to respond but stops short when she opens her eyes again.

     “Have you looked in a mirror since you woke up?”

     “No, why? Are you implying I need to?”

     “Maybe.”

     “Fuck you. You’re just jelly you’ll never look this fab.”

     “First, you ain’t got nothing on the Strider charm. I’m so smooth that Gillette compares their razors’ shave to me. Second, your eyes look like something out of a B-horror flick.”

     “Yeah, they’re pink. Like I’ve never heard that one before. It’s called type one ocular albinism, asshole.”

     “Unless a genetic mutation can randomly cause your entire iris to disappear, I’d say something else is going on.”

     “What?!” She decaptchalogues a compact mirror so fast, he’d swear her syllabus was weaponized.

     “What. The. FUCK!” Her voice rises in pitch on the last word. She snaps the mirror shut. “Take off your shades.”

     “Yeah, no.”

     “Oh, my fucking God, Strider, this is not the time for your douchie ironic bullshit shtick. Show me your eyes!”

     “Excuse me, ma’am, but that’s a bit forward of you. I’m not that kind of guy.”

     She narrows her pure white eyes at him. Man, that is creepy, how did he not notice them before?

     “Take them off or I will take them off for you.”

     He flash steps across the room and takes out his sword. He beckons with his other hand in the classic “Come at me, bro” move. She stares in disbelief, before shaking her head and tossing the compact at him.

     “Fine, be that way. But you can at least check your own damn eyes and let me know if this is a communal thing or if I’m a special snowflake.”

     He catches the mirror and puts away the sword. Turning away from her, he quickly slides his shades down the bridge of his nose and glances at his reflection.

     “Looks like we’re a matched set. Makes us more valuable to collectors. Two blonde freaks, slightly dead, wonder how much we'll go for on ebay?” He sits back down at the bar. She drops across from him with a huff. Silence weighs heavy between them. Not since he was twenty years old has he felt so out of his depth. He bites his tongue to keep from asking, _What now?_  


	4. When Figuring Shit Out Goes Wrong

     She pounds her fists on the counter-top, stands up, and puts her hands on her hips. Strider cocks an eyebrow at her, but otherwise doesn’t move.

     “This is getting us nowhere. We need to embrace the tried and true method of getting to the bottom of things used by people who have no idea what the fuck is happening since shit started happening and people were weirded out by it.”

     “What method would that be?”

     “The scientific!” She cracks up at her own joke. “C’mon, Strider, to the observatory!” She leads the way from the second story, out of the house, and up the stairs to the domed tower.

     “For some mysterious and probably ridiculous reason the power is still working even though there is a decided lack of hydropower, y’know powering. Luckily for us, it means Elminster here,” she pats the side of the massive telescope, “can be adjusted and focused. Otherwise, we’d be stuck looking at one piece of blurry sky.”

    “You named your telescope?”

     “Yeah, wanna make something of it?”

     “What the hell kind of name is Elminster?”

     “Don’t tell me you’ve never played DnD before? Man, I bet you’d make a great DM, you seem a big enough control freak.”

     “Not my preferred type of role-playing. Now, what do you plan to do with this thing?”

     “Look at the sky, obvs. I might be able to figure out where we are from the positions of the astrological bodies.” Going up to the controls of the instrument, she adjusted some knobs and dials. Peeking through the eye piece, she frowned.

     “Well, there’s obviously some sort of massive bodies out there, but they aren’t giving off light like stars. And none of them seem to be moving in accordance with the laws of gravity.” The telescope, at the push of a lever, raises so it is pointing straight up. “Hold up, there’s something else out there, but it’s dark I can’t quite…” she trails off as she focuses on the strange dark mass. It was not spherical like the ones emitting faint light. Instead, she caught glimpses of whipping tendrils. Was it a massive black hole? A few of the gently bobbing orbs float near it, causing it to become partially illuminated.

      “HOLY SHIT!” Lalonde scrambles away from the telescope, stumbling back until she’s pressed against the wall. Strider is quick to take her place at the telescope. He pushes his shades down and takes a looks through the eyepiece. After a long moment, he straightens.

     “What. The fuck. Is that.” His voice is flat and ever so slightly strained.

     “I have no fucking idea! That’s not—I, Jesus, what the actual fuck?” By this point she has sunk to the floor and wrapped her arms around her knees. “Some sort of fucking nightmare. All those _eyes_. God, fucking Christ in a sidecar. I can’t even…” She closes her eyes and shudders. Taking a few deep breaths, she attempts to collect herself.

     “Uh, besides that— _thing,_ there don’t appear to be any stars or other recognizable bodies. Just weird floaty spheres. I’d say it’s safe to say we aren’t in Kansas anymore. I’m don’t think we’re even in the same universe as Kansas. Hell, I’m not sure that we’re even _in a universe_.”

***

     Looking at the slightly hyperventilating scientist, he decides he has to keep his cool. Not that he is anywhere close to losing his cool. Nope. No way. He is so cool that…okay, not even finishing that metaphor. Truth be told, he’s more than a little freaked out by what he saw through the telescope, but he’s dealing cause he’s not a wuss. He’s a motherfucking Strider, and as he has repeatedly told Dave, Striders are too cool to act like scared little bitches when the chips are down.

     “Okay, so I guess we’re going with the afterlife theory, then.” He sits down cross legged in front of Lalonde, shifting Lil Cal to his lap. She laughs, slightly hysterically.

     “Yeah, I guess so since nothing else makes any fucking sense.”

     “Not that it did before much anyway. Hell, we raised meteor babies destined to play a world-ending computer game for Christ’s sake.” The time her laugh was much more genuine.

     “Rosie always got so mad at me when she’d ask where babies came from and I’d tell her she fell from the sky. She’s so damn serious. I think she perfected the ‘getting tired of your shit’ face before she was out of diapers.”

     He didn’t respond. Seems like she was getting over her episode. Turning Cal around in his hands, he straightens his the backwards cap then pauses. He looks closer, studying the big blue eyes. They stare blankly back. He pulls off his shades, clipping them to his shirt collar, and looking intently into Cal’s face.

     “Oh, _now_ you’ll take off the shades so you can gaze soulfully into the eyes of a creepy puppet. I see how it is. Should I leave you two alone?”

     “This isn’t Cal.”

     “What?”

     “This isn’t Cal, this thing is…empty.”

     “What the fuck are you talking about? Of course it’s empty, your hand isn’t in it. Or whatever body parts you use.”

     “No, Cal was always different. This thing doesn’t have any personality or…soul, I guess is the best word.”

     “Dude, it’s a puppet. How does that even work? Did you rip the souls out of some unsuspecting douchebags and transfer them into the puppet? Bet at least one of them was evil, cause that thing always gives off a freaky vibe. Did it demand you feed it souls on a regular basis?”

     He scowls at her, completely forgetting himself for a moment in light of the panic creeping up his throat.

     “No, I don’t know how to explain it, but there has always been a part of Cal that feels familiar. We were connected somehow, like there was a shard of me in him.”

     “Please tell me it doesn’t talk to you.”

     He doesn’t say anything, not liking Lalonde’s flippant tone.

     “Oh, my God, does it? It’s not going to tell you to steal my skin is it?”

     “Jesus fuck, no he doesn’t talk to me. When I was a kid, I would imagine he was talking to me, and when I got older it became habit to ‘check’ with him about big decisions. Like a way of seeing what my gut was telling me to do.”

     “Okay, that’s still weird but not quite as Norman Bates level shit as I was imagining.”

     He shifted, uncomfortable with how much he’d given away but refusing to be ashamed of Cal. He’d been with him as long as he could remember and deserved better than to be treated like a dirty little secret.

     “Dave’d be the one likely to turn out like Bates, considering his obsession with collecting dead shit. I consider myself to be more of a Jigsaw type.”

     "That’s not especially reassuring.”

     “Yeah, I guess not, since you’re his genetic mother.”

     “Asshole. So the doll isn’t alive enough for you? Maybe you should make a wish to the blue fairy.”

     “Oh, she doesn’t grant wishes,” A new voice cheerfully piped up. “Mostly she just causes trouble.”


	5. This is Also a Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exposition happens. At long last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bet you thought this was abandoned didn't you? Well you were...mostly right. But I'm not a quitter, just a chronic procrastinator. This is certainly a chapter. Not a great one, but hopefully it will get us over the holy shit what's going on part of the story.

It had big dark red eyes, curling ram’s horns, fluttering red wings, smooth gray skin, a wide sharp toothed smile, and dimples. OMG, this is just about the cutest thing she has seen since Jasper was a fluffy kitten in a suit.

“You are so super adorbs! Look at your little red hood! There are buttons so it can go around your horns! That is so cute I could just die!”

“Well, it’s a bit late for that,” the red clad being said.

“Jesus, what was that, Lalonde? I hope that you’re employing some sort of weaponized vocal frequency to scare off potentially threatening inhuman invaders. Because if not, I could swear that you are _squeeing_ at said potentially threatening inhuman invader.” He had his back against the far wall away from them and his sword out, poised in a defensive position.

“Shut the fuck up, Strider. What’s your name, cutie?” she cooed at the humanoid creature that had suddenly shown up next to them in the observatory.

“I’m Aradia Megido. Nice to meet you!” Her voice was high pitched, and seemingly feminine, as was her appearance. She gave them an even bigger smile, bigger than a human could manage. Even more sharp fangs were put on display.

“Yeah, charmed, I’m sure. What the fuck are you?” Strider edges closer, not lowering his weapon. Lalonde scowls at him for his rudeness.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize how far behind you two are. I’m a troll, an alien from your perspective. Myself and eleven of my friends played a version of Sburb called Sgrub at the end of our universe’s lifespan and created your universe in the process. I’m the sort of self-appointed guide for new souls entering the dream bubbles, which is where we currently are.”

The two adults stared at the troll girl, speechless, a rare experience for both of them.

“Umm, this might take a while.”

The three of them moved to the living room of the mansion so they could sit in comfort while Aradia caught them up. The adults had to stop her frequently to ask questions and have her expound upon her explanations. By the time she wound down, the adults’ heads were spinning with new, extremely fantastical, information.

“… And now the ship and meteor are both on course for this new session where they will meet up with the post scratch versions of you and the other two guardians to hopefully defeat the Condense and finish the game. I’m not sure what we’re going to do about Lord English, there’s been some talk of a ghost army so maybe that will pan out! At least that’s what’s been happening from my current perspective. Time is weird out here in the Void. Also in general.” Aradia finished up.

There was a lot to process, and she was definitely going to do some hard core freaking out in a little bit, but first…

“I could see Rosie?”

“Ah,” suddenly Aradia’s smile was not quite so wide, “Well, in theory you could. The dream bubbles kinda just drift around. The meteor passes through them occasionally. And the still living players can wander around the bubbles while they are asleep, too. So it’s certainly possible that you could see Rose or any one of countless ghost Roses from doomed timelines.”

“We’re gonna have to start calling you Sir Mix-a-Lot, cause I’ve got a feeling you’re about to pull out a big but,” said Strider.

“I don’t know what that means, so I’m going to ignore it. While it is possible you could meet Rose or Dave, it isn’t very probable. This bubble is pretty far out from any of the others, and due to the fickle and unfathomable nature of paradox space it is impossible to say if or when you could see them. I know of at least one ghost who didn’t meet her friends for millennia from their perspectives, but nearly no time at all had passed for her.”

“I see. Kinda,” she withdrew into herself. A slim chance was better than no chance at all, she supposed.

“I’m sorry. I have to go now. I’ll try to come back and see you. I’m sure our space and time will meet again someday,” the alien gave them another terrifying smile and headed for the door. Strider followed her, because he’s a creeper.

She sat on her couch, or what was apparently her memory image of her couch. She bounced up and down on the faux couch thing. It felt pretty solid. But if she was a ghost would she go right through a real couch? Could she only sit on ghost furniture now? But it doesn’t really matter now does it? She was stuck here in a...dream bubble. With Strider of all people. She wasn’t sure if it wouldn’t have been better to be alone.


End file.
